


Protectors

by CronbachAlpha



Category: BioShock, BioShock 2, Firefly, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Crack Crossover, Crack Treated Seriously, Crossover, Established Thor/Clint, F/M, Gen, Horror, I have no idea what this is but I am loving it, M/M, Male Slash, science-fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2013-12-12
Packaged: 2017-12-10 00:18:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/779628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CronbachAlpha/pseuds/CronbachAlpha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before the Avengers, Clint was part of a four-man SHIELD team. A normal, routine mission to a certain underwater city quickly went sour and took one from them. </p><p>Years later, the Avengers receive a distress signal from the city. Forced to team up with one of Clint's old allies, they realize that not everything was what it seemed to be. They've now unleashed a horror onto their world and are forced into an alliance with some of the survivors to ensure that they keep both these worlds seperate.</p><p>Rapture's awakened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is an Avengers/Bioshock (1 and 2) crossover with two Firefly characters, all modified to fit within the Avengers universe. Three of my favorite things in one story. This is a nonsensical crossover I did for my own enjoyment. Hope you all enjoy this as much as I enjoy writing it.
> 
> Also, the summary was terrible. I am terrible at summaries.
> 
> EDIT: Changed the title.

 

 

 

_“The hour of departure has arrived, and we go our separate ways, I to die, and you to live. Which of these two is better only God knows.”  
-Socrates_

_North Atlantic_ _, Undetermined Location; 2006_

            The city was severely damaged, bordering on collapse. Cracks in the walls and iron seams allowed water to trick and seep in, making large pools on the floor. Neon flickered eerily against the water and lights would fizzle and pop before flickering out. Furniture, plants, small buildings, and other structures were badly damaged by gunfire and flames, posters slashed and vandalized in protest. The calls of whales outside normally would have given the city a peaceful, serene mood, but today it sounded less of a whale and more like a groaning monster.

            “Keep going!”

            Four people bolted down a long, tiled hall, their clothing wet and torn, carrying weapons in their hands. A fit, petite redhead vaulted over a fallen pillar as she loaded her clip. Angry shouts echoed throughout the city as well as pitiful cries as war raged on. Her uniform clung to her frame in a flattering style; her blue eyes cool and composed but betrayed some semblance of worry. Her heels hit the ground with a click as she resumed running.

            “Great fucking timing - getting sent down here as a fucking civil war breaks out!” a larger man snapped, cocking back his pistol. He was the largest of the group at six foot three, his build rugged and his brown hair cut short. His normally perfectly groomed goatee was wild and slightly singed from flames. His dark, blue eyes shone with a beautiful rage.

            “And how were we supposed to know?” another male shouted back. He was slightly shorter than his companion by three inches, with a rugged, thinner build. Lighter blue eyes showed his annoyance at the scenario.

            “You two can continue this later,” the last of the four shouted. He was the shortest of the men at about five foot ten, a quiver on his back and a bow in his hand. Blue-gray eyes remained stoic, as well as his voice. “I’d also recommend you seeing a couple’s counselor,”

            “When we get out of this, I’m going to _hit_ you, Barton!” the taller man snarled.

            The four stopped as they neared their destination: a long, bronze chamber that contained a bathysphere – the only exit out of the underwater city. The woman went over and turned the hatch, grunting when it stuck.

            “What’s wrong, ‘Tash?”

            “It’s stuck,” she reported, calmly. “Give me a hand, Clint, or else we’ll end up like those people in the square.”

            She didn’t need to finish her sentence as Clint placed his bow on the ground, going over to her and gripping the hatch. The taller man growled.

            “You two better hurry before they catch up with us,” he added, darkly. He counted his spare clips and frowned. “Only got two clips left,”

            “Thank you for that, Jayne” the other man said, rolling his eyes. “We needed that boost of enthusiasm,”

            “Mal, Jayne, please shut up,” Natasha replied as she and Clint struggled to unlock the hatch.

            Mal opened his mouth to comment, but instead he yelped in pain as his knees buckled and he collapsed to the floor. Natasha and Clint looked up as Jayne bolted over to his partner, inspecting the injury.

            “Goddamnit – it’s a bolt,” Jayne muttered, feeling the wound as Mal snarled in pain. “It’s in pretty deep – can’t yank it out,”

            “That’s the least of our problems,” Clint said, loading his bow and firing. “They caught up.”

            Jayne lifted his head as a small swarm of people began running towards them, armed to the teeth with weapons – some had guns, others knives and other blades, and others still had homemade weapons composed of spikes.

            “We won’t be able to hold them off and get out of here at the same time,” Natasha remarked, struggling to open the hatch as it began to creak with protest. “Even less with one man down.”

            Mal was ready to argue otherwise, but the pain in his leg made him growl instead. Jayne frowned, taking cover behind a fallen pillar, ducking as a bullet sailed past him. He cocked the gun back, straightened himself up, and fired. A few went down with a simple shot to the head, collapsing and making their companions trip over them.

            Jayne turned his head back to his companions, watching Natasha struggle to open the hatch and Clint slowly running out of arrows. He glanced ahead as the surge grew closer, glancing around the room at the debris.

            “You three get out of here – I’ll hold them off – just send the damned thing back down to me,” Jayne shouted over the screams, ducking back down.

            “Are you insane!?” Mal shouted through the pain as Clint struggled to help him up. Jayne frowned and fired off a few more rounds.

            “You’re injured – it’ll take time to get you inside and out of here and ‘Tash is having problems opening the damned thing; Clint’s running low on ammo and you got none left – I can slow them down,” Jayne countered.

            “Jayne, don’t be a hero,” Natasha scolded.

            “I don’t plan on being a hero – just go!”

            With that, Jayne hopped over the barricade and bolted down to another, taking his time to draw their attention away from the others, wisely using debris to keep him covered. Clint cursed.

            “God damnit – I hate it when he’s right,” he cursed as he returned to help Natasha, the bathysphere door creaking open. The two ran and helped Mal up, the man hissing in pain as he limped into the sphere, Clint pulling the door shut with the aid of its own weight going with them, before slamming his palm on a red button.

            The bathysphere lurched backwards as the cables pulled it upwards.

            The archer stood up, looking out of the one window briefly enough to see Jayne bolt off in the distance, followed by a horde of men, before the sphere was pulled upwards.

 

            SHIELD agents were ready at the surface, pulling the door open and pulling the three agents out, helping a limping Mal along as the climbed out of the chamber and outside, air cool and sweet compared to the burning and carnage down below.

            The director, a tall, dark skinned man with a black goatee and patch, was waiting for them.

            “Care to tell me what happened down there?” Nick Fury asked as the agents laid Mal down, Natasha going to him to help slow the blood flow as Clint approached Fury, his face cut and bloody.

            “We went down as usual – keeping track on what’s going on down there, sir,” Clint said, respectfully, catching his breath. “There’s a civil war going on down there – half the city is in ruins and they’re killing each other. Both factions turned on us because we are ‘parasites’ from the outside, or we supported the other side or some bullshit. Got out as quick as we can,”

            “Reynolds needs medical attention,” Natasha shouted out, applying pressure to the wound, the man growling through gritted teeth, the bolt still sticking out of his thigh. “He got shot in the leg with a crossbow – it’s in deep,”

            “Where the hell is Cobb?” Fury barked as medical personal moved past him, pushing Natasha aside to treat Mal’s injuries.

            “He’s still down there,” Natasha informed him. “It was either we all died, or he could hold them off so we could get out of there.”

            Clint reloaded and swung his quiver back onto his shoulder, bolting back towards the chamber. Fury glanced up at him.

            “And where are you going, Barton?”

            “I’m going back down there – the sphere only works with someone manning it and he needs backup,” he announced, heading back down towards the sphere. Fury nodded his head to a few agents, who followed Clint down into the chamber.

            Mal winced in pain, fading in and out of consciousness. Natasha slapped him, once, to keep him awake.

            “Ow!”

            “Stay awake – you’re losing a lot of blood.”

            The man winced, lifting his head as he felt something injected into his leg, the pain numbing slightly.

            “Where’s Jayne?”

            “Clint’s going down to get him.”

            Mal nodded, laying his head back down as the doctors continued to work on him. Natasha breathed a sigh of relief, glancing up just as Clint and the agents exited the lighthouse. The archer had an odd look on his face, which alarmed her. She quietly stood and went over as Clint went up to Fury. His face was unreadable. Before Fury could ask, he answered:

            “The sphere’s gone. Looked down into the chamber – it’s just gone. Something must have happened down there that caused it to fall back down. We can’t get back down, sir, least not from this entrance.”

            Fury frowned.

            “What are you saying Barton?”

            “By the time we get to another entrance, it’s going to be too late – he only had two clips left and there’s a whole city down there wanting blood.”

            He glanced at Natasha, then down at Mal, wincing slightly.

            “For all intents and purposes…he’s dead, sir.”

 

~*~

 

_Five days later, New York; 2006_

 

            The service was small and simple. Well, as modest as a SHIELD service would get. Fury spoke, briefly, after the clergy gave the opening prayer and read the scriptures. He respectfully read the eulogy in Mal’s stead. They still had the six pallbearers, the flag bearers, and the firing party. _Amazing Grace_ was played as the casket was lowered into the ground. Jayne wasn’t a religious man, nor was he spiritual as far as Mal knew. He only agreed to the service out of respect and under the condition that SHIELD would play _Free Bird_ in replace of a somber hymn.

That made Mal smile. That was his partner, all right – nothing solemn for Jayne. The man was going to go out with a bang, the same way he lived every day of his life, and he was going to make sure no one forgot it.

            “Reynolds.”

            Mal snapped out of his thoughts, turning his head to look at Clint. He had forgotten how long he had been standing at the grave. The archer walked up to him, face still cut, sutured, and bandaged. His face, like the rest of the agents, was stoic.

            “How are you holding up?” Clint asked, carefully phrasing his words. It was never easy, he knew. Clint had Natasha and Mal had Jayne. They had each other’s back for years and developed a bond between them that no one else had. And to suddenly lose that bond was like losing a limb or a part of your soul. Clint knew that.

            “I’ll carry on,” Mal stated, mechanically, still looking down at the smooth, black marble headstone, his back to Clint. The archer nodded his head.

            “It’ll hurt for a while before it gets better,” Clint added. He wanted to hit himself then - the man just lost his partner. He should have been more sensitive.

            Mal merely nodded in assent then, still staring down at the stone. Clint remained silent, giving the man his space, letting the loss sink in.

            “...Would be a lot easier if he was in there,” Mal said with a soft mutter.

            “I know,” Clint nodded. “We couldn’t collect his body. Explosion closed off most, if not all, entry points to that area.”

            Mal nodded his head. Clint knew that seeing his body would have given Mal closure. Not having it only fostered an uneasy, antsy feeling of doubt.

            “…You sure he died down there, Clint?” Mal asked, quietly.

            “After seeing what they were capable of doing, the corpses we saw, how many were on us, and how little ammo he had…I’m just hoping he died before they could do anything horrific to him,” Clint admitted, carefully.

            Mal nodded his head, quietly. Clint paused placing a hand on the man’s shoulder in a comforting gesture.

            “He died a hero, you know,” Clint said, softly, trying to be supportive. Mal had just lost his partner, and nothing Clint could say would ease the pain ever so slightly.

            “He never wanted to be a hero,” Mal said, stoically.

            “I know.”

            They stood there in silence, finding comfort in each other’s company. After what felt like years, Mal cleared his throat.

            “Better get going – it’s raining now.”

            Clint tilted his head, slightly.

            “It’s not raining, though.”

            Mal tilted his head, slightly, as he glanced back at Clint. His eyes were shining and wet, betraying the strength of his voice.

            “Yes…it is…”


	2. The Mockingbird: Part 1

  
_“The heart will break, but broken live on.”_   
_-Lord Byron_   


**New York, New York; 2014**

 

Clint watched Tony and Steve from the rafters of the Helicarrier as they argued over something trivial. They had an odd relationship, Clint noted, that was based on mutual trust, annoyance, and some strange semblance of affection. He could see the short, darker haired Stark smirk as the tall, blonde Rogers rolled his eyes before replying. Two years ago, the men would have said they hated each other and still acted that way, but Clint knew better. Least they were entertaining to watch.

He leaned his head back, closing his eyes. It had been two years since the Avengers were assembled to defend the Earth from Loki’s army. They had disbanded and re-assembled numerous times before deciding to just stay assembled. It was easier than seeking them all out every single time, at least.

It was funny how they became a family.

He didn’t think he’d have a family again. Not after that night.

He heard a soft thud by his side and Clint opened one eye, staring at the large, long haired blonde besides him. Blue eyes were warm and open and Clint couldn’t help but smile.

“Thor.”

The thunder god smiled a bright, winning smile. He was all hard muscle, his arms big as Clint’s head. His long blonde hair was almost gold in color, his stubble expertly groomed, eyes deep blue. For a warrior, it always amazed Clint how his skin was smooth and soft, not calloused.

“I was looking for you, Little Hawk,” Thor said, warmly.

Clint was never when, or why, they became a couple. Maybe it was shared pain of two injured souls. Maybe they were united in guilt. But whatever the reason, they bonded as friends and eventually lovers.

“Just needed some space,” Clint admitted. He watched Thor get comfortable, smiling when the god tilted his head to give the archer a chaste kiss.

“Is everything alright?” Thor asked, softly.  
“Yeah. Just needed some space.”

Thor paused, ready to question Clint’s response when he glanced down, watching Fury come in.

“Would you kindly get down here? We have a situation.”

Clint sighed, straightening himself out; Thor gave him a mischievous look that made Clint gave him a warning glare.

“Don’t you dare…”

Thor merely grinned and scooped the archer up, leaping down off the rafters.

Clint let out a very unmanly yelp, turning red as the remaining team – and Fury – stared. They were used to the two men being a couple, just not Thor’s whimsical tendencies.

Clint coughed, apologetically, and disentangled himself from Thor, glaring at the god as Thor smiled. Tony merely smirked and Clint wanted to hit him with a brick.

“Now that we’re all here,” Fury commented, eyes lingering on Clint and Thor with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. He turned back to the team. “We’ve received a distress signal and we need to respond to it,”

“Distress signal? From where?”

As usual, Steve was the first to jump into the hero role, Clint mused, arms crossed over his chest. He could feel Thor from behind him, his body heat inviting. He cursed that the god had that effect over him. From the corner of his eye, he saw Natasha smile.

“That is the problem. We long believed it was a ghost town, but it seems some still walk among the living down there. Little place off the Atlantic. Locals called it Rapture.”

Clint and Natasha froze, going deathly silent. The rest of the team glanced over at them, confused. Thor looked down at Clint, worried.

Clint, for his part, was still in disbelief.

“…Rapture? Did you say Rapture?”

Fury nodded his head. Clint frowned; Natasha was unreadable; the others looked at each other, confused. The three ignored them.

“We received a distress signal from down there,” Fury explained. “I’m not going to lie to you, Barton, when I say we were all surprised,”

“It’s been, what, eight years now?” Clint said, darkly. “It was close to coming apart, sir. It was leaking. It shouldn’t still be there,”

“I don’t know what’s going on, Barton. All I know is we received a distress signal from down there. All that tells me is that somehow it’s still running,”

“Hi, yeah, we’re still here,” Tony said, waving his hand dismissively, leaning against the wall. Fury took in a deep breath before slowly exhaling, turning his attention to the rest as Clint continued to glower.

“Rapture was, or is, it seems, an underwater city in the Atlantic,” Fury explained as if it was normal. He continued, preventing the others from asking questions. “From what we understand, it was built after the Second World War by a Russian named Andrew Ryan. Don’t know much about him, but he created the city as a place to escape trivial things like government, religion, and social controls,”

“He sounds like a charming fellow,” Tony snidely remarked. Fury ignored him.

“It got our attention during the 1950s. How we found out about it is confidential. We were treated with caution and distrust, since, to them, we acted under the governments of the world, but we came to an agreement. Rapture was, or is, a center of scientific advancements that we took great interest in, so we agreed that we would purchase their findings and fund their projects in exchange for some minor security details and checks on a regular basis,”

“You can guess how well that went,” Clint said with a growl. Natasha placed her hand on his arm and Clint shrugged it off. Fury glanced back at him.

“About eight years ago we did a routine check,” Fury continued. “Small group was sent in. There was a political conflict. Four went in, three came out,”

“I can safely assume that Barton was part of that team?” Steve asked, preventing Tony from talking.

“Barton and Romanov were, yes, alongside two of our best agents. One sacrificed himself to let them escape. We lost a good agent that day. The other has been sent out on espionage missions,”

“And you want to send us back down there?” Clint interrupted. “You didn’t see it, Sir. That place is falling apart. Those…things down there aren’t human,”

“All the more reason to respond to it, Barton,” Fury replied. His tone told Clint his word was final. The archer glowered, reluctantly backing off.

“We’ll need Reynolds,”

“Sir,” Natasha said, calmly, before Clint could comment. “Do we need Reynolds? He's been compromised,”

“The man has been down there longer than you two. He knows where to go,” Fury reasoned. “I want this to go smoothly and quickly as possible,”

“He’s not going to like this, Sir,” Natasha added.

“He doesn’t have many options. I would like it, Barton, if you could reason with him. Besides Cobb, you are the only one who can reason with him.”

Clint just glared at that.

 

 

~*~

 

Clint took off before the meeting was finished. Thor had been asked to reason with him since the god could risk doing so without Clint biting his head off. In reality, Thor was worried about the man. He never saw him so agitated or upset about anything.

The archer wasn’t in his normal places. The rafters were empty and Thor didn’t dare try to get into the small areas Clint and Natasha easily could. After a while, he finally found Clint in his – their – quarters, playing with his arrows, staring blindly at the sleek heads. Normally, Clint would retreat to the rafters for solace, but the fact he was here meant he wanted to be alone – out of sight, out of mind.

“Little Hawk,” Thor announced, making Clint glance at him. “I have been looking for you. Our brothers and I worried when you left so suddenly,”

“Don’t, okay?”

Thor tilted his head as he sat by Clint. The archer grumbled, softly.

“You are not normally so abrasive,” Thor reasoned. “It is unlike you. Warrior Fury has upset you,”

“I’m not upset,” Clint warned.

Thor sighed. “Your stubbornness is not endearing.”

He glanced at his lover, carefully.

“Something happened below that upsets you. Do you want to talk?”

“No.”

Thor gave him a look. Normally, he let subjects drop, but if they were eating the man inside, he held on like a bulldog on a bone. He continued to wordlessly stare at Clint, waiting for the man to give in. After what felt like an eternity, Clint sighed, twirling the shaft of the arrow in one hand, staring as light shimmered off the tip.

“…We were sent down there eight years ago as a routine inspection,” Clint explained, reluctantly as Thor listened. “Like Fury said, they were pretty much anti-government and they weren’t happy when we showed up. They…tolerated us because we were interested in their technology. Well, a guy named…Fontaine, I think? He was very interested in working with us. Ryan despised our presence. Thought we were trying to control Rapture or something. I don’t know. Anyways, we worked with this Fontaine guy anyways – we got some of the research, they got funding.”

He paused; Thor waited, patiently.

“Cobb and Reynolds were noticing a lot of odd things: more security “bots” as they called them, turrets, reports of people disappearing…we were assigned with them simply for backup in case things went sour,”

“I do not understand,” Thor interrupted. Clint sighed.

“Rapture…well, it wasn’t – no, isn’t stable. No government to establish laws, to keep a code of ethics, to punish people, nothing. They could do whatever they wanted. Sure, it worked…at first. No control meant art and science flourished. But that meant it was easier for people to grow powerful. And that’s what happened. Fontaine started to get too powerful and Ryan wanted to control that. Not sure what caused it to come to a head though. The last time we went down, we walked right in to the middle of a goddamn civil war.”

He looked at Thor, who only looked confused, and Clint sighed.

“It meant the city was divided, Thor. They were fighting each other.”

Thor merely nodded.

“Ryan called us parasites – we were working with Fontaine to destroy Rapture. Fontaine turned on us claimed we were supporting Ryan and we were going to help him establish fascist control. Why they targeted us, I don’t know. Anyways, we were out-manned and outgunned. So we bolted and got the hell out of there. Ran out of ammo – Reynolds got injured. Cobb…well, Cobb made the hard choice. He was the distraction. We got out of there. I went to go get him out and…for the sake of simplicity, the way in was destroyed. We never found his body.”

The thunder god carefully put an arm around Clint’s shoulders.

“I am sorry, Little Hawk,” Thor murmured, softly, feeling Clint lean into him. “It is not easy to lose a fellow brother in arms,”

“Mal took it the hardest,” Clint sighed. “He and Jayne were close. When Cobb died, it was like someone ripped off one of his limbs. He wasn’t the same after. Never took on another partner.”

Thor gently placed a hand on Clint’s shoulder. Clint just sighed.

“Now, I gotta go tell him he’s got to go back down there to where Jayne...it’s not going to be pleasant,”

“Shall I go with you, Little Hawk?” Thor asked, gently, trying to be supportive.

“No,” Clint grunted, pushing himself up. “I know Mal – crowding him isn’t good. I have to approach him one on one. If he feels threatened, it’ll get ugly. And…no offense, Thor, but…”  
He glanced at his lover’s arms, which were about the size of his head and could literally crush melons. The god just blinked and then glanced at his arms, confused.

“I do not understand,”

“I know you don’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Lord I still can't believe I'm writing this. Why am I? And why do I enjoy it so?
> 
> The story here is going to be broken down into short stories. I was originally going to post each story as separate, but it didn't work. So this is going to be....long and unending.
> 
> Long time since the last update since I had too many plot changes, additional characters added, and other sudden and random alterations to the story. Unfortunately, nothing I could do made the first two chapters after the prologue less....clunky and awkward.


	3. The Mockingbird: Part 2

            Mal had spent the past few years working deep undercover in an illegal weapons ring, Clint learned. Getting Mal out without rousing suspicion wasn’t going to be easy.

            As he approached the building, dressed in ragged black-gray jeans, worn gray top, and green army-style jacket, he had hoped he could blend in just enough that he could find Mal without anyone even blinking an eye at him.

            The body suddenly flying out of the window, though, told him it was unnecessary.

            He drew his gun, cursing that he couldn’t sneak in his bow, and bolted inside right as the body hit the floor behind him. He half expected Mal to be in danger, but when he entered the building, he realized it was the smugglers who were in danger.

            One man tried to catch the agent off guard and, without taking his eyes off the man rushing him, Mal drew his gun, pointed it behind, and fired, point blank, into the man’s knee cap. He then quickly swung the gun forwards and fired into the oncoming man’s side. He turned his head at the sound of the doors opening and gave Clint a confused glance.

            “Hell are you doing here?” he asked, mostly out of confusion than annoyance.

            “We need to talk,” Clint said. He paused and then nodded his head to two men rushing towards Mal. The agent rolled his eyes, turned, and fired, taking down both men in seemingly one shot.

            Mal was known as “The Gunslinger” in SHIELD’s ranks, due to his extreme speed when drawing a pistol. To the naked eye, that was a single shot. Clint knew it was really two. If Clint was a master archer, Mal was a master marksman.

            When the two men hit the ground, Mal glanced back at Clint. He hadn’t aged a day, Clint mused, except his hair was slightly longer and a stubble was starting to form. He heard one of the men at his foot groan and Mal kicked the man in the skull, knocking him out. Blood splattered over his boot where his foot connected with his nose and Clint involuntarily winced.

           “I said stay down,” Mal said, voice steady and stoic. The man let out a slight whimper and lay on the ground like a slug – his only defense.

           “You should listen to him and consider yourself lucky,” Clint nodded. The last man who annoyed Mal by threatening to take down a city for whatever asinine reason got kicked into the turbine of one of SHIELD’s jets mid-monologue. “This guy here doesn’t tolerate bullshit.”

           Mal snorted, holstering his weapon, turning towards Clint.

            “Let’s take this outside.”

 

            Mal didn’t say a word as they left the building, the two agents walking towards Clint’s car. When they neared it he finally stopped and turned towards the archer, arms crossed.

            “And what brought you here, Clint?” Mal asked. As usual, he was sharp and to the point. He never was one for idle talk. He hadn’t been since Jayne’s death.

            Clint sighed, taking in a deep breath. He knew that this was not going to go well.

            “We’re going back down to Rapture.”

            Mal went silent then, blinking at Clint with a look of disbelief. It felt like years before he spoke again, venom dripping from his voice with each word.

            “...I’m sorry, did you just say ‘going back down to _Rapture_ ’?”

            “We got a distress signal from the Atlantic. Same coordinates as Rapture,” Clint said, keeping his voice calm and stoic. “Fury’s requested you come down with us. Of the three of us, you know the place best.”

            Mal’s eyes turned to slits as he glared at Clint.

            “You better be joking, Clint,” Mal spat.

            “I wish I was,” Clint responded. He could tell Mal was ready to either throttle or strangle him. Maybe heshould have brought Thor with him, he mused. Least it would have made Mal pause.

            “My goddamn partner _died_ down there – those fucking, those _freaks_ killed him and would have killed us! And now Ryan or Fontaine or whoever the _fuck_ is ruling now wants SHIELD’s help? And Fury’s agreeing to it and wants me to go back down there?” Mal growled.

            “Yes,” Clint said, keeping his eyes on Mal. He took a step back with his heel in a defensive stance. He watched Mal grit his teeth, his knuckles turning white as they gripped his arms, and he began to pace, muttering to himself. It reminded Clint of a tiger, stalking up and down its cage.

            “I can’t believe you agreed with this,” Mal snarled.

            “I didn’t, but we don’t have many options,” Clint stated.

            “Tell Fury he can go fuck himself. Let them rot. I don’t owe them anything,”

             “I tried to dissuade Fury, but his mind’s made up,” Clint continued, fighting to control his voice. “Believe me, I’d rather let the city fall,”

            “Then why don’t you? There’s nothing and no one down there worth saving.”

            He gave Clint a cold look.

            “If there are survivors, we should evacuate them,” Clint said, slowly and tactfully. He hated how much he sounded like Fury right now. “You and I both know what…those things are capable of.”

            Mal snorted, still giving Clint a cold glare.

“Did Fury tell you to say that?”

The archer continued, ignoring Mal as he parroted Fury’s words back.

            “And if there are survivors, they won’t last long. And I know you, Mal. You wouldn’t wish what happened to Jayne happening to them.

            It was then that Mal slugged Clint in the jaw, sending him flying back a good few inches. The archer rubbed his now sore chin, pivoting on his foot and away from Mal’s reach. He knew he hit a nerve.

            “Don’t you DARE bring him into this,” Mal snarled.

            “You know I’m right,” Clint countered, keeping his distance. “You know Jayne never let those people suffer,”

            “Jayne would have killed them for what they did,”

            “Only to the ones who deserved it – not people begging for help. They contacted _us_ for aide. What does that tell you?”

            He watched Mal glare, his forehead furrowing with rage and deep thought, clenching his knuckles. Clint continued to keep his distance, watching the man. After what felt like years, Mal’s body relaxed, although only slightly. He crossed his arms again, still deep in thought. He glanced at Clint, holding his gaze for a while before speaking.

            “…I’m not going to do this for Fury,” Mal finally said. “And you better damn well know that.”

            Clint just nodded his head.

 

~*~

 

 

           Mal was silent the entire time he was with Clint, the archer escorting the agent off to the docks before taking one of SHIELD’s unmarked watercraft. Mal kept his silence, completely ignoring Clint. The only time he spoke was when Clint passed him a phone with Fury on the line. Mal had kept his cool, but Clint could tell that, if Fury was around, he’d have strangled him. He said nothing after, and when Clint asked, he was rewarded with a glower.

           When they finally reached the lighthouse, the two men disembarked. Clint stared up at the familiar octagon structure. The slate colored brick still looked brand new and reflected the orange and red glow of the sunset. The towering bronze statue above – which appeared to Clint as a man holding some sort of large orb – was starting to glow. It was completely unassuming to many, but Clint knew what it was really for. He shuddered, involuntarily, as they joined the group.  

           Most of the team had been already suited and ready to go. Except for Banner, of course, Clint noted. He was oddly absent. But then again, Rapture was an underwater city of glass, dome like enclosures. No doubt Fury wisely decided to keep Banner out. The Hulk may have grown to see the team as comrades or whatever the hell he thought they were, but the Hulk and glass didn’t go together well at all.

           Thor glanced over in his direction and smiled a beaming smile and approached Clint, placing a hand on his shoulder in a comforting gesture. Mal raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Clint knew he’d have to fill him in at some point.

           Natasha watched Thor approach Clint and noticed the other agent. She nodded towards Mal in greeting.

           “Gunslinger. Good to have you back,” Natasha said, coolly. It was the friendliest greeting Clint had ever heard from her.

           “Natasha,” Mal said, stoically, with a slight nod. He glanced at the others, turning to address Clint. “So…this is my little tour group, huh? Wonderful.”

           Steve glanced up at Mal, sizing him up, noting his soldier’s stance. The agent tolerated it well enough; he watched Steve approached him, nodding his head in greeting, holding his hand out.

           “Steve Rogers. It’s a pleasure.”

           Mal paused, tilting his head as he gauged the man, taking the hand and giving it a firm shake.

           “Heard a lot about you,” Mal said with a nod. “Pleasure to be working with you.”

           He pulled his hand back, quickly. Clint could tell that there was a sense of mutual respect as soldiers, but Mal was SHIELD, and Steve wasn’t their biggest fan. It was going to be…interesting, no doubt.

           “Alright. We’re going down there and we’re going to find the source of this signal,” Mal finally said, turning to address the ragtag group, loading his pistol, jumping straight to the point. “Once we get down there, put the egos aside – I heard about the mess you all got yourselves into before New York. We’re entering a literal glass city filled with psychotics. One false move and you’ll drown us,”

           “I’d expect anyone who decides to live in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean in bio-dome to be a bit, well, crazy,” Tony said, giving Mal a dismissive wave. The agent glowered, but ignored him.

           “What those people…things, rather, can do…well, hopefully you won’t see. But if they see you, they’ll go for you. And don’t play hero – they come after you, you kill them,”

           “We can’t kill innocent civilians,” Steve stated.

           Mal looked at Steve, gone out.

           “Buddy, you’ll be singing a different tune when you get down there.”

           He didn’t say anything after that, making his way up into the lighthouse. The rest paused, Mal ignoring them. Tony turned to Clint.

           “He’s chipper,” Tony said, cheerfully.

           “He’s been through a lot,” Clint stated. He felt a bit defensive, knowing Mal wasn’t exactly in the best place right now. “But he knows what he’s doing. And believe me…it’s a different game down in Rapture.”

 

           Inside the lighthouse was very unlike a lighthouse. Two staircases of white marble and bronze railings spiraled down each side, the ceiling lit with frosted lights. A large, bronze bust was suspended, hanging from the ceiling with an almost accusatory gaze. A faded, tattered red fabric banner hung limply under it, the words “NO GODS OR KINGS; ONLY MAN” in faded gold font stitched on.

           “Nice, comforting,” Tony chirped. Clint was already dreading being stuck in a glass enclosure with Tony for the next few hours. “Feels like home, huh Cap?”

           Steve just glowered as they made down the stairs, finding a bronze sphere of sorts. Mal was already inside, legs crossed, waiting and annoyed.

           “Will you hurry up? Sooner we get down there, sooner we can leave.”

 

           The bathysphere sunk, creaking as it lowered into the water, following its pathway. The team sat in silence, the lights flickering on and off. The window of the bathysphere showed black for quite some time before it illuminated, revealing a lighted pathway the sphere travelled on.

           Mal smiled a tight smile as the lights went out. There was a burst of static and a voice came over a speaker, deep and regal, commanding authority. A slight, Russian accent came through subtly.

           " _I am Andrew Ryan, and I am here to ask you a question. Is a man not entitled to the sweat of his brow?_

           “Ah, good old Ryan…I missed that bastard’s voice,” Mal chuckled bitterly as the recording went on.

           “That’s the…ruler, I guess you could say?” Steve asked. Mal shrugged.

           “Founder, leader, ruler, psychopath, take your pick,” the agent shrugged and Clint saw his blue eyes darken with memory. Ryan’s recording went on.

           “ _'No,' says the man in Washington, 'it belongs to the poor.' 'No,' says the man in the Vatican, 'it belongs to God.' 'No,' says the man in Moscow, 'it belongs to everyone.'_ ”

           “Sounds like your type of guy,” Tony said, sunnily, to Steve. “Very, very patriotic.”

           The captain glowered at him.

           Thor glanced at Clint, placing a hand on his knee. The archer looked at him and could see Thor was concerned, now knowing about their last mission. He tapped the god’s hand and Thor gave a tight smile, pulling his hand away.

           “ _I rejected those answers. Instead, I chose something different. I chose the impossible. I chose..._ ”

           The sphere illuminated and Clint watched Mal lean back in his seat, the sphere now bright.

           The sight outside was something Clint knew he could never forget – and knew the others would feel the same. On the sea floor, amongst the rocks, the schools of fish, the underwater flora, and underwater fauna, stood a towering city of skyscrapers, neon lights offering advertisements for food, services, and technological marvels. A whale gave out a sorrowful call as it swam over a skyscraper. Some buildings were in ruin, collapsed onto each other like some giant game of destructive dominos, the neon flickering on and off, as the sea attempted to reclaim its lost land.

           Mal smirked amongst the stunned faces and mockingly recited Ryan’s line, the recording playing on.

           “ _…Rapture._ ”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully this is the last really clunky chapter for this story for a while. While plotting out the stories, I was never able to figure out a good (re)introduction for Mal. And I feel most of the team is OOC. 
> 
> Gyah, I hated this chapter.
> 
> Andrew Ryan's lines came directly from the game.
> 
> Image is found here at http://images2.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20100305123055/bioshock/images/0/0e/Warnock_tvspot.png and is (C) to 2K Games. I added this solely for those who haven't played the game, since nothing I could write justified how beautiful Rapture is.


	4. The Mockingbird: Part 3

           The bathysphere rose to the surface in a dark, dank chamber. Inside, the small squad could hear water cascade down the sides of the sphere as it surfaced. The door of the bathysphere creaked open and Mal made his way out, loading a clip into his gun. He rolled his eyes at the sounds of discontent behind him.

            “It’s the pressure change experienced in the bathysphere. Rapture’s pressure controlled so you’ll be fine in a few minutes,” Mal said with a shrug. “Course, it’ll hurt like a son of a bitch when it does.”

            Clint noted Mal sounded a bit too amused then as he stepped out, wincing at the pain in his ears. He forgot about the pressure change. Natasha didn’t show any sort of discomfort, but he knew better. Steve was unreadable, Tony annoyed. Thor? Well, Thor looked like he was in downright pain.

            “Aren’t you just a ray of sunshine,” Tony said. He winced then cursed as his ears popped. Mal just smiled as he led them up the steps.

            Before them was a large building made of bronzed metal, a globe situated in the middle of the area in what was once a fountain.

           Mal snorted, slightly, cocking his pistol back. He glowered up at the front before him with naked malevolence. Lights flickered on an off, the carpet leading up to the building faded and torn. Rubble littered the area, the result of cement or stone pillars collapsing from great force. A blue, neon sign flickered below a golden atom, proudly displaying the name

           “Fontaine Futuristics,” Mal murmured. “Been a long time…looks like Ryan did a tune on it during the Civil War…”

           “What caused this civil war?” Steve asked, keeping his wits about.

           “We don’t really know. When we came we were caught in a firefight. We didn’t really care about the cause so long as we came out alive.”

           He turned to the group.

           “Alright, your distress signal led us here. We’re going to go in, find the source, and get out. Rapture’s citizens aren’t exactly…balanced anymore, so if they see you, don’t subdue them. You put them down,”

           “You want us to kill civilians,” Steve said, flatly. Mal glowered.

           “These…people aren’t civilians – hell, they’re not people anymore,” Mal said, flatly. He seemed distant as he spoke, reliving the last time he was in Rapture. “I can’t even begin to tell you how goddamn dangerous they are. They’re not going to run away. They see you, they’ll go after you and they won’t let up until you’re dead,”

           “Because Mister and Misses Smith who runs the grocery store are clear threats,” Steve scoffed. Mal glowered.

           “You think these folk are normal?”

           “You’d rather murder a harmless woman,”

           “If it means I get to breathe another day, I’m happy to put a bullet in her brain,” Mal spat back.

           “You’re sick,” Steve growled.

           “I’d listen to him, Cap,” Clint interrupted before Mal and Steve came to blows. “They’re not human anymore.”

           Steve shot a surprised look at Clint and then shook his head with some disgust. He was never a fan of Shield’s actions, Clint knew that, but this was pushing the envelope for Steve. Clint wondered if that would change if they ran into one of those…things…

           Mal rolled his eyes, opting to ignore Clint and Steve. He mumbled darkly under his breath and pressed on. The archer sighed and shook his head, feeling a warm hand on his shoulder.

           “He will be fine, Little Hawk,” Thor reasoned as the rest of the team moved past them. He was glad Thor was by his side right now. He needed someone to keep him sane. The place could have driven anyone mad.

           “Let’s just finish this…alright?”

 

            The large, glass wall that opened out into the deep, blue green of the city with rich, red seaweed reaching up would have normally been pretty, but instead it was eerie. No life swam by it. Instead, it illuminated the dark room with an eerie bluish light. A few dirty, amber colored wall sconces provided some illumination, but not much. The engraved pillars on each side of the room, maybe ten feet from each wall, were chipped and damaged. Pots of plants were shattered, the greenery now dead. Chairs and tables were broken into pieces. Stairs framed the base of the window, leading upstairs. Two double doors faced opposite of one another on the main floor. One looked fine, the other splintered and unusable. A battle had taken place here some time ago, which only made the whole area more eerie.

           It alarmed Clint to see the puddles of water on the floor, the wood planks cracked and splintered; the floor was almost caved in from…something, causing decent sized pools. Pools of water meant Rapture was _leaking_.

            “Goddamnit,” Mal cursed, stepping into one pool that went up to his ankle. He glanced upwards, watching a pipe drip.

            “How long do you think it will hold?” Steve asked, raising an eyebrow.

            “Not sure. Damned place has been here for years.”

            Clint watched as Tony went quiet, looking everything over. Must have been scanning the area with Jarvis’ help, he mused. Probably why Fury insisted Tony follow them down.

            He walked over to Natasha, who was feeling bullet holes lodged in the crushed, splintered remains of a reception desk.

            “Looks like it came from a shotgun,” she said her voice stoic. She frowned, her fingers tracing over another mark. “Although I can’t figure out what this is.”

            Clint bent down to inspect it. From what he could tell, it looked like a regular bullet hole, but when he touched it he felt something sticking out of it. He tilted his head, sliding out his knife and stuck the tip in, wiggling the object free after a few minutes. It hit the ground with a soft clang and he picked it up, his eyebrow raised.

            “…Is that…?”

            “A broken key? Yep,”

            “…What the hell caused a key to turn into shrapnel?”

           

            “So, what I’m guessing is that something – I’m not sure what that something is – hit that big old pipe up there with enough force to peirce a tiny hole, causing these lovely ponds to form,” Tony shrugged. Mal snorted, watching the pipe cautiously.

            “Will it hold?”

            “I’m guessing so. I mean, it’s nothing special – just your basic steel and iron. But if something hit it hard enough, we’re probably going to have a bad time,” Tony added. “That means we need to keep an eye on the Big Guy.”

            Mal glanced behind him at Thor. He didn’t really ask Fury about them – just tuned him out and left.

            “And you, Cap,”

            “Unlike you and Thor, I don’t have to rely on projectiles,” Steve snorted.

            “Oh, he’s more of a problem. He likes his hammer.”

            Mal was quietly wishing Tony would shut up. He hadn’t stopped talking since they met. He watched as Clint and Natasha approached him, Clint looking perplexed.

            “What is it?” Mal asked.

            “…I’m not sure how to say this, Sir,”

            “Mal,”

            “…Mal, but there’s no sign of a bomb being used in here, but Natasha and I have noticed odd objects are embedded into almost everything here. We found a broken key in that desk there and what looks like a button in that chair,”

            “A weapon?” Mal asked.

            “No idea. But it wasn’t an accident. I’d suggest keeping our guard up, just in case it’s something.”

            Mal frowned, crossing his arms. It didn’t sound important, but with this being Rapture, he wasn’t sure anymore.

            “Just keep your eyes peeled for anything suspicious,” Mal stated.

            There was a loud burst of static and the team jumped, quickly drawing their weapons, getting into a circular formation for defense. The static was replaced with the sound of a reel spinning to life. Clint glanced around, finally spotting Thor looking sheepish.

            “…THOR!” Clint barked.

            “…I did not mean to do that, Little Hawk. I did not see that…what you call a switch on this desk.”

            Clint glared, looking ready to kill Thor for his mini heart attack. Steve sighed; Mal just glared, cursing, glancing around the room. He looked up as a series of television screens, nestled on a few pillars came to life.

           The screens were illuminated by a gray, faded light, and a video began to play. Andrew Ryan’s voice echoed throughout the room as a cartoonish caricature of a man appeared on screen. He had a large forehead, beady eyes, and a cartoonish mustache, laughing over a burning city. Cartoonish images flashed by of the man stealing from hard working people and inciting violence in others. The recording played on.

 _Frank Fontaine is a parasite_ Ryan’s voice echoed.

           “That voice is Andrew Ryan, Rapture’s founder and all around psychopath,” Mal explained. “How I missed him,” he added, his voice heavy with sarcasm.

_Fontaine didn’t make his share. No. He took it from Rapture. The sweat from Rapture’s brow belonged to him. And he waged war against Rapture to take his share, like the Man in Washington. His followers continue to rape Rapture even after his death, feeding off this city like the parasites they are. I, Andrew Ryan, say no more. This day forth, Rapture has her guardians in the SONGBIRDS._

           “Songbirds?” Steve asked, turning to Mal, who merely squinted, watching the reel play, listening to Ryan’s recording. After a long pause, he shook his head.

           “I hate to say it but…I have no idea…we never came across anything called Songbird or even related to anything Songbird,” Mal admitted.

           The imagery switched. Six figures that appeared to be wearing stylized diving suits –bulky suits with clunky, menacing helmets - appeared, the “portholes” in the helmets glowing with a bright – almost angelic – light. They alternated being large, regal, muscular, and lithe, reminding the team of the paintings of gods and angels popular in the Renaissance. An aura surrounded them as the cartoon caricature of Fontaine cowered, fleeing with his arms covering his head as cartoonish depictions of Rapture’s citizens cheered.

_The SONGBIRDS are some of Rapture’s most loyal citizens – they are the ones who stood up and said no more. They are the ones who have chosen to defend Rapture from the parasites. They represent the spirit of Rapture._

           Images flashed between each figure, giving off their name.

_I present to you Rapture’s finest: the Sea Eagle, the Auklet, the Thunderbird, the Firebird, the Kestrel, and the Mockingbird. They have stepped forwards to protect Rapture from her enemies. The parasites will feed off Rapture no more. From this day forwards-_

           The reel suddenly became to sputter, the sound wobbling and clicking. Within seconds the sound shut off, the film stopping dead, leaving only a blank, illuminated wall. It left the small group in silence, trying to comprehend what it had just seen.

           “…Charming man,” Tony finally said.

            “Oh, he’s a pretty shiny fella,” Mal snorted, sarcastically. “Wish I knew what a Songbird was…”

           “They probably caused this,” Steve said, gesturing to the chaos around them.

“Most likely…hopefully not recently. All that means is to find the source of the signal sooner than later in case they decide to check in…”

            A shot rang out, suddenly, going past Mal’s head and into the pillar behind him. He cursed, whipping out his gun again, glancing around for the shooter. He growled, the remaining of the team drawing their weapons.

            “You! What are you doing here!? You, you filthy Splicers! The next time, I won’t miss! Get out!”

            The voice was that of a woman, with a thick German accent. Clint could see by the stairs an older woman, hair long and dark tied in a tail. She wore what appeared to be a long, ratted dress, pistol drawn onto them. Her eyes were full of raw fury, not one ounce of fear.

            “…You crazy BITCH,” Mal snarled, drawing his pistol. Steve quickly grabbed it, and lowered his hand, preventing Mal from firing. The agent snarled at Steve, who merely chose to ignore him.

            “We’re not…Splicers – we’re responding to a distress signal from here.”

            The woman paused, relaxing her gun hand. She carefully lowered it, staring intently at them, gauging their honesty.

            “…You…you are the ones who work for Nicholas Fury,”

            “Yes,” Steve added, still holding Mal down by his arm, the man cursing in a vast array of languages. The woman breathed a sigh of relief, finally lowering the pistol fully, her hand sliding off the trigger.

            “I thank God that you have come. There is…much I need to explain,”

            “We’re happy to hear it.”

 

           The woman led them upstairs to a room where she quickly barricaded it. She made her way back to a desk, packing a small bag of files and papers, shakily lighting a cigarette. Clint kept his eyes on the door, just in case, Thor standing beside him protectively. The woman sighed.

           “My apologizes – I did not mean to shoot at you, but Splicers…they were here. I could not risk being seen,”

           “We understand,” Steve said. Mal just glowered, sourly. “We’re here to help now,” he added with sympathy. Mal rolled his eyes, jumping right to the point.

           “Before we get you out of here…why the hell did you send that signal,”

           “Sir,” Steve said, curtly.

           “She could be a Splicer,”

           “I am not a Splicer,” the woman spat, throwing daggers at Mal. She turned her attention back to Steve. “My name is Brigid Tenenbaum. I was a scientist who came here to Rapture,” she explained, exhaling smoke. “I did much work with genetic engineering and ADAM,”

           “That’s what Shield paid this place to research,” Natasha explained. “People exposed to it healed from injuries we thought were impossible to recover from,”

           “Yes…we found more uses for ADAM, though. Many medical purposes. But now…it is destroying this city. It led Rapture to a civil war it barely recovered from. And now? …It’s destroying us. We do not have much time – I can explain it to you in greater detail later, but now we must go before Ryan or Lamb finds us.”

           She spat out the words like poison. Mal had to raise an eyebrow.

           “Lamb?”

           “Yes. Sofia Lamb, the woman who dared to challenge Ryan for control of Rapture. She has a great deal of Splicers are under her control,”

           “Splicers?” Mal asked.

           “It…it is what we call them,” Tannenbaum said, her voice hushed, “the men and women who are addicted to ADAM. So much effort has gone into producing ADAM that Ryan has gone to great lengths to cultivating it…”

           She fell silent, taking a long drag from her cigarette. Steve looked ready to ask her to continue but Mal spoke up, shutting him down.

           “Alright…let’s get you out of here. When we get back to Shield you’ll need to explain what’s going on here,” Steve said, oozing sympathy.

           Tenenbaum nodded, putting out her cigarette and locked up her bag. Mal mumbled about the whole thing being too easy when a burst of static erupted throughout the room, startling the group.

           “Tenenbaum, Tenenbaum, Tenenbaum,” came the familiar calm, emotionless voice. Clint drew his bow and glanced around, finally noticing the loudspeaker in a corner. Mal snarled, drawing his pistol as Natasha loaded hers. Tenenbaum paled, slightly.

           “It is Ryan – he’s found us,” she said, voice a bit shaky, grabbing and loading her pistol. Ryan’s voice echoed over the loudspeaker as the group could hear something moving downstairs below them.

           “It is a shame, Tenenbaum. You were one of Rapture’s greatest, and now…you are willing to side with the parasites. That is something that I cannot forgive. Can you hear Rapture coming back to life? Can you hear the breath returning to her lungs? The sounds of shops opening, the schools humming with the thoughts of young minds? Rapture is coming back to life, and you bring the parasites here to crush it.”

           Ryan’s voice remained calm, but he spat out the last sentence with disgust. The sound of something climbing the stairs grew louder and the group drew their weapons, the footsteps becoming louder.

           “Rapture will thrive and I will use your tombstones for paving tiles. I hope The Mockingbird makes you suffer for your betrayl.”

           The loudspeaker went dead and the group stood in silence.

           “…He has sent a Songbird…” Tenenbaum whispered. Her voice was devoid of hope, her skin pale.

           “…How tough are these Songbirds?” Clint dared to ask.

           “You will find out…”

           The door began to crack, bending inwards like something was being thrown to it. Within seconds it was sent flying towards them, the group diving out of the way, Steve grabbing the doctor by her waist, pulling her to safety.

           Clint drew and arrow and he heard Thor growl as he lifted his hammer. He aimed the bow at what Tenenbaum called a Songbird and froze.

           It was a man, standing roughly six foot four, wearing what appeared to be a bulky diving suit, heavy leather bands wrapped tightly around his forearms and legs, bulky shoulder pads protecting his shoulders, leather gloved hands decorated in metal to make his punches hurt. He lacked a helmet, which only made Clint draw his attention to his short brown hair, goatee, and ferocious snarling teeth. He raised his hand and the shattered door levitated off the ground. He felt Thor grab him and roll him to the side as the door was sent flying to him, shattering into pieces.

           Telekinetic powers? How the hell was that possible.

           He looked up and froze, seeing the man’s face. He could hear the rest of the team scramble upright. Mal fired a shot, hitting the man in the shoulder harmlessly. The man growled and turned familiar blue eyes onto him.

           Clint watched Natasha’s eyes widen in shock.

           He saw the color drain from Mal’s face. He backed up, slowly, stunned, as the man lurched towards him.

           His voice was a hushed, stunned whisper.

           “…Jayne?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The hardest thing with writing this story is not make EVERY chapter a giant exposition, but also make it understandable for those who never played the Bioshock games. Because, really, in a dire situation like this, who is really going to go into detail about what ADAM is when you got people trying to kill you (unless you're in a manga/anime)? So we'll have to wait for now to hear what she's talking about.
> 
> I'm having Mal speak more like how he does in Firefly. Word doesn't like it. It's better for me to start it now before it becomes very jarring.
> 
> Speaking of dialogue, Ryan is...easily one of the most difficult people to write for. He's very educated and speaks frequently in metaphors. He's very poetic, and it's difficult to capture that.
> 
> Also, writing an ensemble cast is....difficult.
> 
> I'm debating whether or not to add images of Rapture to this like in the last chapter so people can get an idea of how the world looks.


	5. The Mockingbird: Part 4

The man was Jayne. There was no doubt in Mal’s mind that the thing – no, that man – was his partner. Those blue eyes, deep and bright like sapphires, were unmistakable, as well as the telltale scar over his right eyebrow. But there was something…wrong about him, drastically wrong.

            He looked dirty, his skin blotched with grime, and his eyes didn’t look right. They had an odd color to them, almost faded like he was in his own world. And that growl…it was so animalistic it was barely human.

            “…He died,” was all Natasha could say.

            “THAT is your old partner?” Tony said with disbelief.

            “I think I’d remember what he’d look like,” Mal said, still in shock. Steve frowned, watching the former agent.

            “….I know what those eyes mean,” he murmured, softly.

            Before Mal had the chance to even ask he had to dive out of the way as Jayne went for him. The agent swung his head towards him with a snarl.

            “That is the Mockingbird,” he heard Tenenbaum shout over the sound of chaos. She drew Jayne’s attention and his eyes narrowed, focusing in on her. “Do not keep your distance – he is the worst of all!”

            Jayne slowly made his way towards her, steps heavy, echoing off the walls. She doctor drew her pistol and fired, hitting him in the shoulder. Jayne paused to glance at the wound, and then turned his gaze back to her with naked malevolence.

            Clint fired his arrow, watching helplessly as Jayne raised his palm and made a fist, the arrow stopping in midair. He turned his head towards Clint, looking annoyed. He slipped the arrow so the head faced the archer and released it with equal force, sending it flying back. Clint was barely able to dodge it as it embedded into the wall.

            That didn’t sit well with Thor, at all. The god growled, baring his teeth as he lifted his hammer.

            “You help the doctor. I shall deal with this one,” Thor said, eyes dark.

            Clint paused for a brief second – that was Jayne, and Jayne was his old brother in arms, and here he was staring at them with those alien eyes. He had killed rogue agents in the past, but this was different. It was almost like someone pulled Jayne out and put something else back in.

            Thor lunged for Jayne, faster than the man could react, and both men hit the floor, hard, Thor on top. Steve took the moment to grab Tenenbaum by the arm and pull her slightly, encouraging her to move. She nodded her head in silence.

            “I’m taking Tenenbaum to the sphere – watch my back,” Steve barked. It didn’t take long for him to assume control, with Mal uncharacteristically silent and shocked. He bolted out the door with her as Thor and Jayne scraped on the floor. Tony and Natasha followed to provide cover.

            Jayne’s eyes narrowed and the remaining ones watched, stunned, as a red light enveloped their bodies, the sound of wind being sucked deep into a cave echoing. In a blink they were gone.

            “….What the HELL?” Mal asked, stunned, his eyes still wide with shock.

            There was a loud, echoing thud outside and Clint paled, the two men bolting back out.

 

            When the arrow went for Clint, Thor had lost all reason and dove onto the man, ready to cave his head in with Mjölnir, but only after beating him savagely. What he hadn’t expected was to feel an odd, tingling sensation in his body, then a flash as his insides were twisted and spun, and the next thing he knew he was in the air, Jayne on top of him, slamming him into the ground, hard, with Mjölnir falling onto him.

            He growled, sitting up with some pain, the man having wisely gotten a few feet from him. He wasn’t mindless, the god realized. He knew to keep his distance.

            He was tempted to throw his weapon at him, then recalled Tony’s warning about the pipes and wisely decided drowning them all was a poor idea.

            “How did he get out here?” he became aware of Steve saying.

            “The Teleportation plasmid,”

            “The WHAT?”

            Jayne used this moment to raise a desk and telekinetically hurl it towards the doctor and soldier; Tony raised his hand and used an energy beam to obliterate it. Mal and Clint ran down the stairs, rejoining them.

            “I have no time to explain!”

            Jayne lunged for them again and Thor grabbed him, pulling him back down. He felt Jayne bring his knee up to his stomach and delivered a shockingly painful blow to the god, using his palm to slam Thor in the nose. He recognized the technique as something Clint and Natasha used, trying to jam his nose into his brain to kill him.

            Thor flipped them and pulled his legs to him, planting his feet against Jayne and launched him across the room and into a pillar, the man hitting it hard, wood splintering. He heard him growl as Thor summoned Mjölnir to him, glancing up to see Clint. Needing to know he was alive.

            Jayne pushed himself out of the pillar and stalked up to Thor; Natasha raised her gun and fired, drawing Jayne’s attention to her. Thor used the moment to throw Mjölnir at him, sending Jayne flying to the floor, trapped by it. He shot an arm out and launched a stool at the god, who took the blow to his chest.

            “Great, even pinned he’s still a WMD,” Tony dryly stated. “And I’m useless here unless you prefer drowning,”

            “You’re a cheery person, Stark.”

            Jayne growled, the red surrounding him again and in that flash of red light and roaring wind he slipped out from under Mjölnir and before the god. Thor frowned, calling his weapon back, twirling it once in his hand, ready to cave the man’s head in with one fatal blow.

            And that was when Mal noticed the broken lead pipe on the floor and had an irrational, hopeless, idea.

            He quickly picked up the pipe, testing its weight with one hand, and Clint just glanced at him with disbelief.

            “…Mal, what are you doing?”

            “Taking a risk, like any other Shield agent.”

            With that being said, Mal bolted over behind Jayne, the man too focused on Thor to pay attention and brought the pipe down on the back of his head, hard. The man hit the floor face first, only catching himself with his palms.

            Mal stood over him, hand shaking, still holding the pipe. The rest of the team silently kept their guard up as Jayne let out a groan and pushed himself onto his side, looking up at Mal.

            There was something different about his eyes now: clearer and brighter, no longer hazed over with fog. The animalistic expression was replaced with pain and utter confusion. He looked up at Mal, squinting slightly.

            “……Mal?”

            The agent hit him with the pipe again, knocking him out, his breaths deep and rapid. Clint went to Thor, touching his arm as he made his way over to him.

            “...You took down the Mockingbird,” Tenenbaum said with shock. Mal shot a dirty look at her, pointing down to the man.

            “…You better explain to me what you did to him,”

            “I do not have time right now – we have to escape before Ryan sends Splicers,”

            “Fine, we’ll take him with us,”

            “Are you insane?” Tony asked with disbelief. “Putting THAT into that tiny cramped sphere with us will end poorly. You do understand that, right?”

            “I know what he just did, alright!?” Mal snapped, throwing the pipe at Tony, letting it helplessly bounce off his chest. “But in that moment, he wasn’t…that thing,”

            “We saw how a good blow to the head fixed Clint,” Natasha reasoned. “And he had those similar eyes…”

            “And we took a risk with Legolas – no offense,” Tony pointed out. Thor and Clint both glowered at him.

            “I have to agree with Natasha…we all saw that look,” Steve pointed out.

            Mal snorted.

            “Fine, we all agree. Thor, you carry him out of here. And you, doctor…you have a hell of a lot to explain…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate writing fight scenes, especially when the plasmids gets involved, so this is a real quick chapter before the next's exposition fest and we get to see how Jayne is doing.
> 
> Not going to lie, this mental image is why I wanted to write this story - Thor fighting Jayne Cobb. And then it took a mind of its own.
> 
> As a side note, I understand how Mjolnir can only be lifted by those worthy enough, hence why Loki couldn't remove it at all in the Thor film. However...I'm not quite sure if it'd effect someone with teleportation powers like Jayne here. Would it go with him? Or would it just remain there helplessly? I went with the latter.


	6. The Mockingbird: Part 5

           The air in SHIELD was tense and confused. When the team arrived back with Tenenbaum in tow, Fury walked over to greet her along with Banner and Hill. But when he looked up and saw Thor carrying the body of the agent they thought dead he had given pause. Maria had stared with wide, shocked eyes, and pretty soon all of SHIELD knew that Jayne Cobb was found.

            Alive.

            Mal sat by Jayne’s side, the man resting in the medical bay, arms and legs strapped down at Steve’s insistence. Normally he’d have hit him for insinuating Jayne was a threat, but after seeing what his partner did, he reluctantly agreed.

            Not like it’d help, really. If Jayne could teleport himself out from the restraints.

            Jayne barely looked like himself, Mal mused. He seemed more muscular, let thinner, like he hadn’t eaten well. He was still covered in dirt and grime and he wondered how often he was able – allowed, really – to bathe. Then again, he wondered how…conscious Jayne was of the whole thing. He seemed confused when Mal hit him. Maybe he had no recollection of the time he was last in Rapture to now? Or maybe he did know on some level. Clint knew what he did under Loki, the archer had admitted to him some time after New York, but it was in jumbled pieces, like a puzzle with huge hunks missing. He wasn’t sure how Jayne would act when he woke, but he hoped it wasn’t like how they did in Fontaine Futuristics.

            “Mal.”

            Mal looked up, turning his head to the doorway where Clint was. He didn’t say anything, just nodding his head out. Mal reluctantly nodded and got up, following the archer out.

            “Tenenbaum ready to talk?”

            “Yep.”

 

            Tenenbaum sat in her chair, smoking, looking out the window at the new world around her. She was hiding her shock and awe well, Clint mused as he sat by Thor, the god instantly touching his hand. Then again, their world probably wasn’t as fantastic like Rapture in its prime.

            The only people present were the entire Avengers, Fury, and now Mal. The marksman had flatly told them once the mission was done he was gone, but bringing Jayne in changed everything. Now he was involved and he refused to consider otherwise. Not that Fury complained. He was happy Mal was back, even though he wouldn’t say it.

            “Alright…now that we’re all here, mind telling us why you sent us that signal?” Fury asked. Tenenbaum sighed.

            “Your men…they came towards the end of the Civil War,” Tenenbaum explained, exhaling a ring of smoke. She looked tired and drained, Clint noted. Like her life had been slowly sucked out of her. “Rapture was in chaos. Hangings in the streets, shops and homes destroyed, and Fontaine was passing out plasmids to his men. It was chaos,”

            “You’ve mentioned this before,” Steve pointed out. “What is a plasmid?”

            Tenenbaum paused in her speech, thinking.

            “They are serums, made from ADAM. ADAM is a raw form of unstable skin cells I discovered off a sea slug. A man crippled in his right hand had been bitten by one and the next day he was playing catch with some men in the docks. I had found a way to manipulate the cells into a serum, which we called plasmids. It modified and mutated the cells of the body,”

            “Like Jayne’s….teleporting thing,” Clint stated.

            “Yes,”

            “So they give super powers,” Tony shrugged. “Sounds like the premise of a video game…or a Pixar film.”

            Steve glanced blankly at Tony who just smiled. Tenenbaum continued.

            “We learned too late that ADAM acted like a benign form of cancer. It would destroy native cells and replace them with the unstable stem versions. It gave many extraordinary powers, but we learned it would cause cosmetic and mental damage to people who use it habitually,” Tenenbaum explained.

            “So like a drug,” Bruce stated. Tenenbaum nodded. “And you gave it to Fontaine,”

            “Fontaine knew this because he would give anyone addicted to ADAM more, and the violence grew. One day, amid the violence Ryan sent out a message, stating that if Fontaine did not back down he would cleanse Rapture of his influence. Fontaine refused, and the next day came the SONGBIRDS…”

            She took another drag of her cigarette, exhaling deeply. She shook her head at the memories that overcame her.

            “There were six of them…I assume three men and three women. They came from the heart of Rapture and one by one, they began to hunt down and slaughter any of Fontaine’s followers. The war turned to Ryan’s favor, and finally they stormed Fontaine Futuristics for Fontaine himself. No one knows what happened then, but everyone agrees that Fontaine never made it out alive.”

            Mal frowned, toying with his fingers.

            “And Jayne was one of these?”

            “Yes…after Fontaine was killed, the SONGBIRDS stopped their killings and they slowly began to rebuild Rapture. They were seen by some as saviors of Rapture, helping bring the city back to life, still policing it from Fontaine’s men. For a short time, Rapture flourished. Until Lamb came back…”

             “You mentioned her – said she started a second civil war?” Steve asked. The doctor nodded, shaking her head with disgust.

            “She had challenged Ryan before – a popular woman, a psychologist Ryan hired to help Rapture’s citizens adjust to their new life. But then…I do not know what happened, but she gained followers in the poor, spreading her wealth and providing free communes where they could live. Ryan was not found of this…socialist view, but he tolerated her until she formed The Family, which was nothing more than a cult. She believed in selflessness, that her Family had to sacrifice their good for everyone, and that everyone needed to be equal. It went against Ryan’s beliefs and discontent once again brewed. She believed, firmly, that free-will lead to selfishness and misery, and that Rapture needed to be devoid of it to thrive. Of course, she was just as bad as Ryan, killing those who opposed and worse...”

           She paused, shaking her head at the memory.

           “Then one day Ryan held a debate with her…to weaken her influence. He had the SONGBIRDS with him. Why, I am not sure – possibly to kill her and her followers, when something unexpected happened…I am not sure what, but the SONGBIRDS turned not only onto Lamb’s followers, but Ryan and themselves. They had seemingly gone mad and Ryan brought in reinforcements to stop them. He then had them taken away and now…well, he and Lamb are fighting for control, as you saw,”

           “But if the SONGBIRDs turned on him…why was Jayne following him?” Mal asked. Like the others, his brow was furrowed in confusion and disbelief.

           “I do not know. All I know is the SONGBIRDs were not spoken of for a while, and then the Sea Eagle and Mockingbird returned. The others…I do now know what happened. But…I have seen the suffering caused by ADAM, and I need to make it right.”

           She glanced over at Fury.

           “I beg of you to give me help in saving those in Rapture who are in need of it. I have a few…friends in Rapture still, who are trying to protect the ones who need it most, but every day more Splicers appear. We are in a losing battle and we need help to get the survivors out.”

           Fury listened to her in silence, face unreadable. He leaned back in his chair, fingers resting against one another.

           “Doctor Tenenbaum, I sympathize with you, but I can’t push all of SHIELD’s resources into defending a city that’s crumbling. We are having issues with supers popping up everywhere and terrorists turning people into walking weapons. I need a damn good reason to suddenly switch our resources,”

           “There is rumor Splicers and survivors alike have escaped to the surface,” Tenenbaum countered. “Your men saw what Mockingbird did. Your world is unprepared for them. That should be reason enough,”

            “And how dangerous are these Splicers?”

           “Depends on how badly they’ve been mutated. And there’s worse down in Rapture you are fortunate will not come to the surface. But right now, your agency is the only one standing in the way of survival and destruction for your world and Rapture.”

           Fury watched her, carefully.

           “I will have to consider our options, Doctor. I’ll get back to you once we figure it out,” he stated.

           Tenenbaum went to respond when an agent entered. Fury glanced at him, annoyed.

           “What is it?”

           “Sir, Agent Cobb is awake.”

 

           When Jayne woke, he had no idea where he was; just that he was in pain. He winced at the light, trying to move his hand to his eyes but felt it pulled back. He glanced, noticing the restraint.

           His mind raced back to a memory: strapped down to a gurney, a doctor in old scrubs (at least he thought it was scrubs) over him, Ryan telling him he would bring back Rapture from the grace, then something sharp into his wrist…

           “Jayne?”

           He turned his head, seeing Mal in the doorway, eyes wide with shock. Jayne tried to sit up, but found he was unable to. He winced.

           “…Godamnit…”

           “…Is it really you, Jayne?”

           “Who t’hell do you think it is?” Jayne growled, feeling awful. He watched Mal stay by the doorway, watching him.

           “What mission were we paired up with the first time?”

           “…Why are you-never mind. Nepal.”

           Mal breathed a visible sigh of relief, finally going to sit by Jayne. Jayne tried to sit up, growling at the restraints. Mal paused then undid the one around his forearm. Jayne looked at him with thanks and undid the other, sitting up. Mal sat in silence, just watching him.

           “…I can’t believe you’re alive,” he said, quietly.

           “You and me both…” Jayne murmured. “…How much time’s passed?”

           “…Eight years,”

           “…Damnit…”

           Mal glanced over at him, watching Jayne rub his neck.

           “…So you know you were down there for a while?”

           “…I guess. Hard to gauge time down there but…I knew it was a while,”

           “Do you remember anything?”

           “…I do but I don’t.”

           Mal nodded as Jane undid his leg restraints, wincing. He frowned down at his suit.

           “I smell like goddamn stale sea water,”

           “I was going to say…”

           Jayne heard the door open and looked up as Fury entered, arms behind his back, watching him.

           “Cobb, good to have you back,”

           “Sir,” Jayne nodded. He swung himself to the side of the bed, the suit feeling like dead weight. “…Mind I get cleaned up before we talk?”

           “I’d recommend it. Then get some rest. You need it. Take a long vacation if you have to.”

           Jayne rolled his eyes, standing, looking at Fury.

           “I had my mind fucked over for eight years and you expect me to sit and let it slide, sir?”

           “I didn’t think so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exposition away!
> 
> As for Fury's comment, it's a bit cold, but he has a point. Rapture isn't a threat to them - at least not yet - so why waste man power and resources to rescue survivors, where they should focus on other things that do pose immediate threats? Like Bioshock, everything is colored in gray in this story and the right choice isn't always obvious. 
> 
> Will Fury change his mind? We'll see.
> 
> Jayne and Mal's dialogue was awkward to write since I'm not sure how anyone would react, but it works.


	7. The Mockingbird: Part 6

            Jayne didn’t realize how filthy he was. Mal had left him alone with a set of spare clothes, allowing him to shower in the privacy of his room. Only plus side of having showers in the medical rooms, Jayne mused.

           Eight years had passed…he knew time had passed, but eight years? He shook his head. He wished the memories from his last mission to now weren’t fragmented. He remembered a lot of fighting; blood, screams, bones breaking, the smell of burning flesh. It explained the scars on his legs, thighs, arms, and sides, he mused, but they didn’t look…normal.

           Dried blood and blood swirled around the drain at his feet. He looked down at wrists, staring down at the scars. That he remembered…

 _Strapped down to a chair…Ryan telling him he was Rapture’s last hope…then sharp pain in his wrists as large needles injected something thick into his veins. He felt like his insides were twisting, his organs being taken out and put back where they didn’t belong, his blood and brain boiling. He remembered screaming in pain before passing out. He woke later at some point to more needles and the same pain. Then after that_ “Jayne, you okay? It’s been almost an hour.”

           He snapped out of his thoughts. Did he space out?

           “Yeah…I’m fine,” he said, gruffly, finishing cleaning himself before switching the water off, drying himself before pulling on the clothes Mal had left him.

           He looked at himself in the mirror over the sink. He had lost weight, he noticed, and it alarmed him. The white wife beater and the regulation black cargo pants Mal left him was looser than he last remembered. He gently put his fingers to his face, feeling his cheekbones. He noticed his hands seemed bony, his eyes sunken. His eyes seemed off in color. They were still blue, but he could see slight specks of other colors in them – an odd turquoise or green.

           “Jayne?” he heard Mal ask. He rolled his eyes, finally leaving the bathroom. Mal watched him, carefully, as Jayne sat on the bed, pulling on boots.

           “What?”

           “…You sure you’re okay?”

           The agent glowered up at Mal, the man watching him carefully.

           “I’ve had eight years of my life taken from me and I was treated like someone’s attack dog. No, I’m not okay, but sitting around doing nothing isn’t going to help me none,” Jayne stated darkly.

           That was the Jayne Mal remembered: stubborn and foul-tempered. The man stood up, wincing slightly.

           “…I feel like someone threw me through a goddamn wall…”

           “Yeah, about that…”

 

           When Jayne entered the meeting room with Mal, he felt awkward at the stares in his direction. Clint and Natasha still looked shocked. Fury was stoic. He recognized Tony Stark but wasn’t sure why he was here. The short haired blonde man he didn’t know, nor the shorter, dark haired man with glasses. The woman in ratty clothes seemed…familiar. The long haired blonde who was glaring at him was foreign to Jayne, standing behind Clint defensively. The archer scowled at him and elbowed him, hard.

           “I’d like to say welcome back, Agent Cobb, but I’ll admit we don’t typically have agents return from the grave.”

           Jayne shrugged his shoulders.

            “You’re not the only one in new territory,” he grumbled.

            “I assumed the medics have seen to you?”

            “I’d rather not turn into someone’s experiment,” Jayne said flatly. He really wasn’t up for more needles right now.

           Fury nodded his head, noting as he scratched over a scarred, circular mark on his wrist.

            “You’ll need to get seen to at some point soon, Cobb. Both psychologically and physically, of course,”

            “Yeah, yeah…dare I ask who the peanut gallery is?”

            Fury paused, gesturing for Jayne to sit, filling him in on SHIELD’s past eight years, from the formation of the Avengers, an invasion in New York, and a slew of other incidents they had to deal with. Jayne remembered Fury planning to form the group, but that was about it. He had spent too much of his time shooting people to care, really.

            “Trust me, I know. It’s a lot to take in,” Mal said, snapping Jayne out of his thoughts. Guess he was trying to be comforting, Jayne mused. He didn’t need comfort right now – he needed some semblance of normalcy.

            “Now that we have that covered,” Fury interrupted, “I hate to ask but do you remember anything from down there?”

            Well, that was normal.

            “Yes and no…I remember some things vividly. The rest…I can’t explain it,”

            “It’s like having memories that aren’t your own,” Clint said, quietly. Jayne looked over at him, the archer falling oddly quiet. The blonde man – Thor, he thought – merely touched his shoulder. That wasn’t like Clint, Jayne mused. The man wasn’t one for comfort. “Or waking from a dream, unable to distinguish what’s real and what’s in your head.”

            Jayne blinked. Clint certainly hit the nail on the head with that one. He wondered how, but he knew better than to ask. The quiet voice and distant eyes said enough.

            “…Basically,”

            “So you can’t explain why you were attacking our little squad?”

            Jayne shook his head. “Not at all. Like I said…everything’s fragmented.”

            Fury nodded his head. “And the new tricks you picked up?”

            _He could see the needle, filled with a viscous fluid. He was strapped down to a red chair, burning pain shooting through his body as something thick entered his system. He could feel his insides being ripped to shreds. He didn’t realize he was screaming._

            “Jayne?”

            Jayne lifted his head. “Sorry…I don’t know where they came from…I remember something being injected into me then…well, I had them,”

            “Plasmids,” Tenenbaum murmured. “It changed his DNA. I’m not sure how many he was spliced with,”

            “…Plasmids?”

           

            Thor found Clint back up in the rafters, having left once the meeting ended. Bruce and Tenenbaum escorted Jayne off for testing, much to Mal’s discomfort. Clint wasn’t fond of it either, which is why Thor suspected he left.

            He twirled Mjolnir in his hand and released the hammer, sending him upwards and onto the rafter. He composed himself and walked over to the archer, sitting by his side.

            “Are you alright, Little Hawk?” he asked, gently. Clint glanced over at him, sighing softly.

            “Guess so…just overwhelmed. Thought Jayne was dead and it turns out he’s alive. And not only that, but for eight years he had someone messing with his head…he’s doing well right now…until all those memories come rushing back.”

            Thor gently pulled Clint to him, draping an arm across his shoulders. He laid his cheek on top of Clint’s head, feeling his body relax.

            “…Now he’s down there getting tested and lord knows what’s going to happen once he remembers…it’s going to be a disaster, that’s all I know. I just hope we’re prepared…”

            “Do not expect the worst, Little Hawk,” Thor said, reassuringly.

            “Can’t help it…I just have a bad feeling about this. Like we just opened Pandora’s Box,”

            “…Whose box have we opened?”

            “Nevermind…all I’m saying is something doesn’t feel right in my bones, and I think we’re not ready for what’s coming our way.”

            Thor nuzzled his forehead, gently.

            “We are prepared for anything, Little Hawk,”

            “…I hope you’re right, Thor…I hope your right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here ends "The Mockingbird". The next chapters will be "The Kestrel".
> 
> This story is broken down into short "episodes", like a TV show. It's an experimental format, but it gives me some freedom with switching between times and locations.
> 
> Hate ending this chapter. Couldn't get Jayne's reaction well, the ending well, nothing. I'll probably go back and rewrite this at some point.


	8. The Kestrel: Part 1

“If I kept saying it; if I kept reaching out. My accident really taught me just one thing: the only way to go on is to go on. To say 'I can do this' even when you know you can't.”   
― Stephen King, _Duma Key_

 

_Three weeks later, New York; 2014_

            It was raining as Marissa McKennit ran. Her lungs hurt, her ankles burning with pain from her heels. Her heart pounded painfully against her ribcage, glancing behind her.

            He was still chasing her, and now he was catching up. She felt tears prick her eyes as her grabbed her arm, covering her mouth to stop her from screaming as he dragged her, kicking and screaming, into the alley.

            She felt herself being thrown down, the man on top of her, placing something sharp against her neck.

            “Make a sound, and I will cut your pretty little throat.”

            Marissa just nodded, sobbing to herself when she felt him rip her blouse open, hearing the sounds of buttons bounce off the cement. Rain fell into her eyes as she tried to distance herself from where she was.

            Suddenly, she felt his body being flung off and something heavy hitting the opposite wall of the alley.

            “Get off her.”

            Marissa looked up with shock. It was a woman; she was tall, maybe five foot ten, her long dark hair falling down past her shoulders, the bangs curling from the rain against her forehead. Dark eyes glared at her assailant, her lips were tight and forming into a small snarl. She glanced back down at her and made a gesture with her arm.

            “Get out of here. Now.”

            Her assailant growled, standing up. Marissa’s body shook as she got to her feet, shrieking with fear as her assailant swiped at her with a knife, the tall woman grabbing his wrist with her hand. Was she a plain clothes officer?  
            “I said GO!”

            Marissa was out of the alley in seconds, trying to block out the sounds of bodies hitting the floor behind her,

           

            The woman let herself fall onto her back, the man on top of her, trying to cut her with the blade. She could tell by his eyes that he wasn’t going to be scared off by a little tussle like most. They were wild and full of rage.

            She knew that animalistic look all too well.

           “Think your some hero, bitch? Well let’s see how tough you are.”

           He managed to break free of her grip and slash a large gash into her collarbone. Not deep enough to kill her, but enough to draw blood.

           She used one hand to keep his body away and pulled one hand back.

           The sound of roaring wind erupted by her ear and the man went flying down the alley, his body hitting the floor with a sickening crack. He screamed in pain.

           The woman growled, pushing herself up, placing a hand on the cut, the sound of wind dying. She ignored the man in pain, hearing sirens down the street.

           “Great. Blood. There went being inconspicuous…”

            She let the police handle him, she mused, bolting out of the alley and down the street opposite of the sirens, feeling her wound slowly heal with each step.

            He was lucky she had other things to attend to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of the next upcoming arcs, "The Kestrel" is one of the arcs I'm most excited with. Mainly because I get to move away from the Rapture element for a little while. 
> 
> Not crazy with the rather...cliche start, but I couldn't help it. I've been marathoning too many "Law and Order: SVU" episodes...
> 
> I tended to listen to Spinnerette's "Baptized by Fire" while writing this and other chapter sin this arc. I'm going to safely say that's her theme.


	9. The Kestrel: Part 2

            Jayne wasn’t quite sure why Tony Stark insisted on using a tennis ball machine to test his abilities, but he knew he was going to kill him, dodging another yellow ball.

            “He’s going to kill you,” Mal stated, dryly, as Tony smirked and increased the speed of the machine. Bruce watched, carefully, shaking his head.

Jayne raised his hand and felt the oddly familiar, pulsating feeling in his arm and hand as he brought it up and caught a ball, midair, roughly a foot from him.

            “That’s closer than last time,” Tony stated, cheerfully, and Jayne raised his hand and caught another ball in midair.

            “You’re just an ass,” Bruce sighed.

           More balls approached Jayne and the former agent fleet a warm feeling go through his entire body and he suddenly felt light all over as he could see the other side of the room in his mind. He blinked, seeing red, and in a flash of light he was on the other side of the room. His stomach churned.

           “Turn it off,” Mal stated.

           “We’ve just started,” Tony protested.

           “I said turn it off. You know he gets drained.”

           Tony rolled his eyes, turning the machine off remotely. Due to Jayne’s newfound…abilities, SHIELD wanted a full understanding on the extent of his powers. Jayne only had a few days to heal before he thrust into testing. Physicals, examinations, and tests had become Jayne’s life and Mal was the only one willing and able to step in when things had gone too far, especially when SHIELD decided to test the extent of Jayne’s telekinetic powers at the shooting range. Turned out Jayne’s biggest weakness were hunks of metal shot at him.

           He had noticed that, the longer Jayne used his powers without rest, the more ill he felt. Headaches and fatigue would suddenly overcome him without warning and Mal would force the tests to end so Jayne could recuperate. They couldn’t truly figure it out, and Tenenbaum was refusing to talk in protest of Fury’s decision.

           He went over to Jayne, who managed to get onto the floor, leaning against the wall, to catch his breath. He squatted, concerned, as Bruce went over and checked his vitals.

           “How’s your head?” Bruce asked, calmly.

           “…An elephant could have sit on it and it’d feel better,” Jayne grumbled.

           “We can do without the hyperbole,” Bruce stated. “Your pulse has picked up a bit, but not sure if that’s from dodging or your plasmids,”

           “You did good,” Mal reassured. Jayne needed it right now. He frequently told Mal that he felt like a lab rat.

           “…Still can’t figure out what causes this?” Jayne grumbled. Bruce shook his head.

           “Your blood tests have come back fine. We looked at your DNA. It’s definitely been altered and we don’t think it can be undone – you’re unfortunately stuck with these powers,” Bruce stated, chipper as usual Mal noted sarcastically. “We can’t seem to figure out what causes these bouts of fatigue or your headaches,”

           “Great,” Jayne groaned, closing his eyes as the pain rippled across his skull. 

           “Has the pain medication worked? Or do we need to up the dosage?”

           “It’s fine…least I didn’t get goddamn SHOT like last time,” Jayne growled, glaring at Tony, who smiled a snarky smile.

           “At least we found out what can hurt you,” Mal said, trying to put a positive spin on the whole incident.

           Jayne’s glower told him how well he took it.

 

           Clint was down in the range, firing off his arrows. It had been a bizarre three weeks. Jayne was back, and no matter how happy he was, it was still strange. Mentally, he was still frozen in time the day he was taken in Rapture. So much had happened since then it was hard for Clint to talk with him at times. Jayne never got his references or small jokes he, Mal, and Natasha shared and it only reminded Clint about how much time was stolen from them. He noted Natasha acted similarly. She still talked with Jayne, but it seemed mainly business related now.

           Mal was taking it the best, he admitted. The agent had attached himself to Jayne, becoming his handler. He had caught the two men sitting alone a few times, Jayne just listening as Mal filled him in on what he lost, showing him newspaper clippings, magazine articles, and news videos to get Jayne reacquainted. He desperately wanted his partner back the way he once was and Clint wasn’t sure he ever would. Maybe someday he would, but not today.

           Jayne took it worse than them, of course. Clint suspected Jayne felt like an outsider. SHIELD treated him like a test subject. The Avengers alternated treated him with pity and distrust. His former comrades were distant.

           "Are you alright, Little Hawk?”

           He lowered his bow and looked at Thor, the god concerned.

           “Yeah. Just…thinking,”

           “Is it about your former comrade?”

           The Asgardian had taken a liking to Jayne for some reason. Clint reasoned it was because Jayne reminded him of how Loki brainwashed him, and Jayne was the living proof of what could have been if Natasha didn’t break his hold: a violent, unstoppable killing machine with no remorse.

           “Yeah. It’s just…I had accepted his death and moved on. Turns out he’s alive. That doesn’t happen, and when it does, how the hell am I supposed to react?”

           He looked at the blonde, who opted to let him vent.

           “I’ve changed in eight years, he really hasn’t. His memories are frozen in the past. How do you go back to normal after that? A lot of time was taken from us and it’s not easy to just…continue on like nothing happened,”

           “The Warrior Reynolds has been able to,”

           “Their relationship is…was different Thor,” Clint sighed. Mal and Jayne had a rare bond. They were close like Clint and Natasha were, but there was a whole different layer there. Clint could never identify it, but he had his suspicions. In their line of work, no one wept over a loss. Only Mal. He meant to ask him but chose not to.

           “Bonds cannot be broken so easily, Little Hawk, as the Warrior Reynolds has shown,” Thor said, gently, putting a hand on Clint’s shoulder. “Your bond is still there, it merely needs time to grow again. He has been through much as you know from unfortunate experience. He needs companions right now. He cannot retreat into himself as you did, lest he allows that darkness swallow him whole.”

           Clint hated how wise Thor could be at times. But he was right. Clint kept his feelings to himself after Loki and he became a shell of himself for a while. A nasty, bitter, punch-y shell of himself, of course. It took Thor to stay by his side, letting Clint hit him as he screamed at him, holding his arms as he quietly gave his apologies, holding him when Clint finally let his walls down.

“…I know,”

           “And with his newfound powers, his reaction may be more volatile than your own,” Thor murmured. “I recall he nearly killed Stark when he ran his tests.”

           Clint recalled that vividly. Tony wanted to see Jayne’s telekinetic reactions. Somehow that led to having an agent shoot at him. The end result was learning Jayne couldn’t catch bullets and the former agent advancing on Tony, growling, ready to beat him with a chair.

           “I know,” Clint murmured, crossing his arms as Thor pulled him against his chest. The god rested his chin on Clint’s head. The archer relaxed, slightly, taking comfort in Thor’s warmth. He glanced up at Thor, who gave him a reassuring smile before kissing his forehead. He hated how the god was able to soothe his nerves at times.

            He heard the range door open and Thor pulled back as Steve came in, his face unreadable.

            “Rogers,” Clint said with a nod.

            “You’ll want to follow me. We have a problem.”

 

            When Clint followed Steve into the meeting room he paused upon seeing the imagery on the screens. They seemed to be photographs from a crime scene, mainly medical ones. It was a man, Clint could tell, and his body was badly banged up. There was a large bruise on his chest with what seemed to be some lacerations. His skull was cracked, blood oozing everywhere, one leg bent at an unnatural angle.

            “We got these from one of our field agents” Fury stated, turning his head to address Clint and Thor. Clint noted Bruce was already inspecting the injuries, brow furrowed. “Man’s lucky to be alive,”

            “And this is a SHIELD-related matter?” Tony asked with a snort. “Doing the police’s work now? Ever read _1984_?”

            Steve gave Tony a blank look.

            “This bruise and laceration on his chest aren’t normal,” Bruce interrupted. “It’s too large to be made by a fist, but I can’t identify the object that could have caused that and the lacerations,”

            “Our agent said he was attacked by a woman,” Fury added. “He hid the fact he tried to rape another, of course,”

            “I don’t think I know a woman who could deliver a blow like that,” Natasha shrugged. “Even myself,”

            “He stated that the woman threw him across the alley.”

            Clint frowned. “You’re thinking…?”

            “I’m afraid that Miss Tenenbaum may have been telling the truth,” Fury said. “This could be the start…”

            “Should we ask Warrior Cobb to confirm?” Thor asked. “Lady Tenenbaum refuses to speak,”

            “Jayne’s memories are so fragmented he may not know,” Bruce stated.

            “He remembers being strapped down and drugged,” Natasha pointed out.

            “Tenenbaum isn’t talking,” Fury pointed out. “We don’t have much choice. Go get Reynolds and Cobb. He may be the only hope we have in understanding what’s going on.”

 

            Jayne felt Mal shake him awake. He growled, waking to see Mal and Natasha, the red head telling him his was needed immediately. Jayne had snorted, wanting to sleep off the stress from the tests, but Mal’s look told him he had no option. He reluctantly got up and follows Natasha, alongside Mal, to the meeting room where Fury and the others greeted him.

            “Cobb, I assume the testing went well,” Fury stated. He was trying to be more reasonable it sounded, Jayne mused. Probably due to what he was going through.

            “Don’t ask…what do you want?” He really wanted to rest.

            “Right to the point I see…a field agent sent us these photos. Normally I wouldn’t even look into it, but our friend says what caused them was physically impossible. A woman launching a man across an alleyway.”

            Jayne blinked, then looked at the photos and was shocked when he felt something…familiar deep in his gut. He’s seen those bruises before. But where?

            Something sparked a memory.

            _Fighting in a shopping district. A battle between Them against The Others. He’s knocked down, overpowered by the group. He can barely fight them off._

_A burst of wind, the group is blown off him, like leaves on the wind. He gets up, trying to recover. A man lunges for him, shirt torn from battle._

_Another burst of wind and he is sent flying across the room. The man’s chest is now an ugly bluish-brown, small cuts appearing around it._

_A hand grabs him by the shoulder and yanks him up. It’s a woman, he knows that based on the figure. The insignia on her chest tells him she’s his ally. A friend._

_His friend._

           “…Kestrel…”

           “What?”

           Jayne blinked, snapping out of the memory. Mal is looking at him, concerned. The man shook his head clear of the memory, looking at the photos.

           “…I know those marks…that’s Kestrel,” Jayne murmured.

           “…She’s a Songbird?” Fury asked, slowly, turning to look at Jayne. The man was aware of the eyes on him, but he was fixated on the photos.

           “She is…my memories are fragmented, but I know for a fact that’s her mark,” Jayne insisted.

           “How dangerous is this Kestrel?” Fury asked.          

            “…I don’t remember much,” Jayne said, carefully. He couldn’t remember if she killed anyone thanks to his fragmented memories. “She’s capable but if she didn’t kill him then…”

            “You think she’s like you?” Mal asked.

            “I got no damn idea…”

            “Do you remember anything else but Kestrel?” Fury asked.

            Jayne stared, blankly, trying to remember anything outside of her insignia and the unique bruises her combat abilities created. He frowned, growling with frustration before shaking his head.

            “No…nothing’s triggering a memory right now sir,”

            “So all we know is we have a Songbird loose in the city. Wonderful. We’ll have to get Tenenbaum to talk,”

            “She won’t talk sir,” Natasha pointed out.

            “She will once she realizes I was wrong.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kind of getting a better idea at how I want to write this. I like this chapter the most so far.
> 
> In the games, Eve is used to "restore" Adam, which drains when you use plasmids. As a game mechanic, it functions similarly to reloading a gun. However, in terms of a story, it doesn't really work well. I'll explain in a later chapter how Eve works in relation to Adam in this story.
> 
> In the Bioshock games, you can "catch" grenades and such with the Telekinesis plasmid but not bullets. An in-game audio diary explains bullets just move too fast to catch. I'm keeping this canon and not giving Jayne super powered Matrix-like abilities.
> 
> Also, Jayne's fragmented memories are based on the memories the protagonists witnesses in the Bioshock games. His are just a bit clearer at times.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a VERY random crossover. Once the idea got into my head, it festered. After writing out drabbles, it turned out I actually really like it. So, please, join me on this nonsensical ride and I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I love this.
> 
> I'm going to do my damndest to make the rather complicated world of "Bioshock" work with the Avengers movie-verse, as well as go into extensive detail about its history, technologies, and events to people who haven't played the games.


End file.
